


A Million Little Fires

by Sushimice



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:14:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25674160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sushimice/pseuds/Sushimice
Summary: Forsythe Pendleton Jones iii left with his mom and sister only to return with the intention of saving his dad from himself,  how much darkness would he bring back with him to the small town that seemed determined to keep everything locked up, and how would the people around him handle someone who was so clearly determined to fight them all for what he wanted?
Relationships: Archie Andrews/Betty Cooper, Archie Andrews/Geraldine Grundy | Jennifer Gibson, Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper & Jughead Jones, Cheryl Blossom/Toni Topaz, FP Jones II/Hermione Lodge, Jughead Jones/Toni Topaz, Jughead Jones/Veronica Lodge
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	A Million Little Fires

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever attempt at any sort of public writing, any and all criticisms and notes are greatly appreciated. As of right now there are plans for lemons, but with what frequency is currently unknown, please enjoy and leave a comment.

Mom once said I used to smile more when I was younger, back when I was so sure of what right and wrong was; I can feel the muscles in my throat contracting trying to keep the laugh down that's clawing its way to my lips, Jellybean also said I need to be less smug, out of the two of them I can’t decide who’s words are sticking to me more. Typing is supposed to help me organize my thoughts and focus my attention, maybe try and stifle the voices in the back of my head, four-teen seems a little young to be so stiflingly cynical.

But I guess it comes with the territory of being the child of divorced career criminals, not white collar money launderers or shady stockbrokers, not the lords of a vast drug empire, nothing so financially rewarding and criminally impressive; Being small town bikers suited them just fine...until it didn’t, until most of the food in the house was replaced by warm liquor and cold beer, until the clothes we’d been wearing started to get smaller and smaller on us, until dads vocabulary was replaced by hate filled platitudes of my former best friends father, until he hit me, until mom finally had enough. 

Dad went through all five stages of grief in less than two hours while mom packed up our bags grabbing only the clothes that would fit, toiletries and a few small personal items. I think the thing that stuck out most that day wasn’t the balmy summer weather or Jellybean’s sticky hand squeezing my fingers to the point of almost being painful, but dad's eyes his tired almost defeated eyes.I’d never seen him look so tired.

He pulled us to him pressing our small faces into his shirt smelling of all the sins he enjoyed in his time away from us, and promised us he would make things right so we could be a family again and I chose to believe him, I made my own promise back, I would return with mom and jelly as soon as I could, and for just a second his eyes looked a little bit brighter almost like the muddy haze of his destructive alcoholism was forgotten, there was something still good in him if only he could remember what it was.

Piling into the decrepit Land-Cruiser mom made no mentions of where we were going, if I had the even the faintest inkling that we would be leaving Riverdale maybe I would have stayed, maybe mom wouldn't have driven all the way to New Orleans and instead turned back around to give it one last try, maybe the next two years of my life wouldn't have been a master class in fledgling criminality. The secrets this city had were far too numerous for anyone person and unlike Riverdale that tried in vain to smother and lie about every dark thing that it had ever produced, they almost seemed to revel in sin here, drugs, alcohol, sex and violence throbbed through out every doorway and street in the city.

Everything came wrapped up in music and magic, the city itself was swimming in old spirits crying out for the never-ending bacchanalia to keep going, Xanax and heroin are almost as good money and in some cases better; and the music was the voice of it all so much variety it was like walking through a record store and having every single one trying to take you by hitting some emotional pressure point.

A never ending parade of jazz and soul, broken up by southern rock and gospel all of it to be chased back down again by late night bumps of cocaine and whatever liquid was being used to inoculate you from the stench of sweat and the violence swimming just out of your peripheral.  
We had escaped the crushing weight of a small town and my dad's own need for self destruction only to move to a city built on the notion that maybe destruction was actually salvation, that by breaking down and poisoning your very soul, you could find yourself clean and new on the other side.

It took me a full year to realize that's why we were here, mom had a plan from the start and never told anyone, she’d been keeping it all locked up inside and was simply waiting for when it was necessary to act, because of course she did. 

She had found us a cheap two bedroom apartment above a local music venue named the “Gator-Walk”, the owner of the venue and the corresponding apartment was a cousin of a serpent back north so he cut mom a deal and allowed us to eat free of charge as long as we minded our manners and paid rent on time, I held no hope that we would be able to keep up our end of the bargain, never did being wrong ever make me happier. 

She also established a base of operation in a junkyard stripping old cars for parts and moving drugs, most of the cars were actually owned by the people bringing them in, it helped establish the business as being legitimate when most of your face business was legal, but every now and again someone would show up with a car that was too new or they didn't have the paperwork, or even a key. 

Refurbished parts were always an easy sell, but new parts always had to go through someone else and always incurred a risk, which in turn created a higher cost and a need to scrub off serial tracking numbers, a time consuming process but one I would get more than abundant practice in. 

None of this would have been possible if not for the runaways mom had started recruiting, her personal little gang of unwanted children whose only mistake was being born to parents who didn’t give enough of a shit about em to stop them from leaving, so now we had a dozen other siblings who split their time from stripping cars, pick-pocketing, three card monte and good old fashioned robbery, you’d be surprised the stuff people leave in their cars.

No one was allowed to touch the drug side of business except for mom and later me, she broke down the packs, she made all the distribution calls, she handled every dollar and every gram never once taking her finger off the scale, or her eyes off the money, she had a plan and so did I.

Returning to Riverdale was inevitable, whether it would be to save dad from himself or to bury him and burn the trailer down, I couldn’t know until it was time to leave; After all the hard work mom had put in there was no force that was going to uproot her from the new life she was making, Jellybean was no exception she was thriving in this new environment..

Everything in me called me to stay, I had absorbed this place and everything it had to offer and it felt natural to be here, the hot mix of celebrated sins and vices opposed to the cold and almost infantile need to keep secrets back in Riverdale. Would it really be that bad if I stayed? Fixing dad wasn’t my responsibility, but neither was drug running or fixing cars and yet being here with mom it almost seemed like it was necessary, fixing dad was also necessary and I shouldn’t be questioning this but nothing seems so clear anymore, it’s not helping when I’ve been smoking grass and doing bumps off my house keys, both of which I have to hide from mom, she’s a criminal but she would still stop me from going back to dad if she thought I was liable to fall into addictions like he had. 

In contrast engines were simple, if somethings broken you simply have to find out what and fix it, there is almost peace when my head is stuck under the hood or underneath the body of whatever piece of shit mom deemed salvageable and therefore worth fixing or stripping, but I don’t mind the cuts and scrapes or coming home caked in grease and sweat or that Tania keeps taking the the ten millimetre socket from my fucking set. 

Life could be simpler here if I would just let it be, drinking chicory coffee and ingesting music and food with equal gusto, learning to play guitar and piano, fixing cars and maybe even getting a girlfriend, maybe I could finally see what Archie was always going on about....Archie Andrews.

I had considered calling him to let him and Betty know where I was, timing never felt right and anything I could think of to say quickly turned to cement on my tongue. The skin on my knuckles itches and my mouth suddenly feels as though I’ve been sucking on a pennies, I need another cigarette.

I’ll have to see him again when I get back, him and Betty. Innocent love sick Betty, she was sweeter than maple and just as dark. 

I noticed it last Valentine's day Archie had gotten a card from one Ginger Lopez. Her and Arch spent the rest of the day holding hands while Betty had spent it plotting how next week she was going to get her revenge, she lived but her romance with Arch was done, and Betty played the part of the supportive friend beautifully.

Since then it was just a matter of watching her at work, Alice Cooper brought out the worst in everyone, I chose to ignore her not so subtle glares and almost Dickensian attitude regarding anything even remotely related to the south side or my dad. 

But to Betty, Alice was her mom and also the sole decider of everything in her life; from the pastels filling her wardrobe to the strictly controlled portions on her plate, nothing in her family's life was outside her control, except for Betty’s feelings to one ginger haired boy and Betty like all sinners basked in her sin of Archies praises and platonic affections something Alice found deeply disturbing, her daughter’s outside persona was like a crystal figurine unmarred of dirt and fingerprints, but if you looked long enough and at just the right angle, the light shining off Archie Andrews would angle and you would see the crack splitting it in two; and I think like me, Alice had seen that crack and it terrified her. 

I wonder if they know I’m coming back, would they even want me back? The adventures of Archie and Betty would of course keep going if not by divine right then by Betty’s own selfish desires, but is it selfish to love and to want to be loved in return? The flame I'd been carrying for the youngest Cooper fizzled and faded out before I left, nothing compared to the light that seemed to emanate from Riverdales favorite son.

I need that cigarette.

Rising from the bed, Jughead staggers towards the door feeling his legs stiff but also wobbly courtesy of the slight high he’s been edging all night with small puffs from the now useless stem of a blunt resting in the ashtray, reminding him why he had picked up the old laptop to begin with; the doorknob feels cool against his hand as he pushes open the door in the dim living room of the apartment. 

Making his way through the open floor plan he headed for the kitchen, and the alleviation's it offered, passing by the comatose bodies of several of his mothers other “kids”, all of them had made a appearance at some point during the going-away but maybe not party, Gladys insisting when ever she could that if he wanted he could change his mind and simply stay, chuckling at the memory he grabbed a sandwich from one of the leftover platters strewn across the kitchen island and a lukewarm beer and headed to the sliding patio door slowly pressing it open until he could just squeeze through the gap.

Settling himself on the green and white lawn chair next to the wrought iron table and consumed his half a sandwich following it up with the bitter liquid sloshing down his throat in between every bite alleviating his cottonmouth and appetite for now, it was warm out tonight as it had been every night since they came here the sounds of the bar downstairs having wound down to the few regulars and the staff, the air was hot and thick with moisture ensuring that his skin would be slick with sweat and stick to the back of the chair, his hair already doing likewise to his neck. 

Coming down here had changed him, a light tan had worked its way across his skin as a result of his constant work outside and taking any opportunity to be shirtless so as to avoid sweat sodden clothes. Experiencing a growth spurt after his thirteenth birthday he was now one of the tallest kids in his age group standing at just under six feet gladys assuring him he still had a few inches to grow: luckily he also filled out with muscle and now sported a modest set of abs, his boyish features had started to edge away and become more defined, making him look a few years older than he actually was. 

Reaching for the red and gold pack of his Dunhills flicking open the box with a practiced action he slid out his lucky and set it between his dry lips flicking the lighter a few times before setting the flame to the edge. Lungs expanding to pull the poisonous cloud into his chest, he relished the taste and took some small satisfaction in the nicotine rush added to his already smoke encapsulated brain.  
Jellybean had spent the better part of two weeks ignoring the swollen subject of his departure, instead joking that he would be back in a couple of weeks once he had gotten tired of their father and the boring almost insignificant town of pep, but he saw how she tucked her thumbs in between her middle and index finger or how her chin would shift down slightly like she was trying to cover her neck; both were leftover tactics from their time in the trailer from back when he would read her ‘Nancy Drew’ until she fell asleep. 

His hand felt heavy as he lifted it up and ran it through his hair, sucking in more poison as the muscles in his chest tightened, “She’ll be ok” replaying the mantra was soothing his overactive imagination, a balm covering an invisible wound he was just now stumbling upon. 

“Are you going to sleep tonight?” 

So lost in his own thoughts he hadn’t noticed the door open. His response was short and honest “Maybe.”

Tania was sixteen and the first kid Gladys had recruited, she was smart, almost annoyingly so and she had no patience for others who underestimated her, Her lip snarled as she cocked her hip with one hand on the door frame “Then the least you could close the door, the smell of your shitty cigarettes woke me up.” 

He stood up forcing her to crane her head a little, he offered her a drag, his long arm extending out to reach her, her small fingers brushed his as she accepted the gift, smiling as she flicked her tongue before introducing her lips to the filter, he watched her mouth the entire time. 

“So you’re really leaving huh, not gonna pussy out and come back when you cross the bridge or nothing?” there was a silent laugh as she smiled and her shoulders shook slightly causing one of the straps of her yellow tank top to slide; Her almond shaped eyes squinting as the corners of her mouth reached her dark cheeks, the ache that had been occupying his chest from before was replaced with a familiar warmth that he had grown accustomed to when around her.

Their relationship had always been antagonistic almost cruel sometimes, but her eyes were soft and full of laughter anytime it was just the two of them, “Not if I want to keep my word, and also get as far away from you as possible, then yes mon cher I must depart.” he had one hand on the frame right next to hers with the other pressed to his chest, his eyes conveying the words he knew he couldn’t say “I’ll miss you.”

Tania’s eyes traced a bead of sweat that traveled down his neck to his collar bone and then seemed to almost plummet down to his navel and just at the hem of his dark blue boxer briefs “Why are you always so damn dramatic Jones?” Her voice was soft and mirthful, she gently took her hand and placed it on his chest feeling the muscles underneath his skin flex in reaction to the sudden contact. 

“I never did give you a going away present, it would be a shame if I didn’t give you something to remember me.” she said, stepping forward so that there was only enough room to fit a fist in between them and having to tilt her head slightly to maintain eye contact.

He feels his smirk spread across his face and settles comfortably “ I hope it’s not a gift card, that feels impersonal.”

“Smart ass.” no more words are needed as their lips make contact molding effortlessly, taking shape in familiar fashion as they’ve done a dozen times before in the back seat of junker cars or behind his closed door. His hand placed itself on the back of her neck as her own drifts down to settle on his hips just resting on the waistband. Tongues melding to one another in the shard space of their joined lips. She surprised him by biting his lip and breaking the skin forcing them to separate before stepping away, retracting and stepping back into the shadows of the apartment. 

He followed her back into the comfort of the air cooled room before she turned on her heel and made her way to his room and opened it silently, the only noise he heard was blood rushing to his steadily hardening member, if this was going to he his last time her he was going to make sure he used every lesson she had taught him. 

He crossed the threshold and watched as she exposed her toned back and legs to him leaving her facing his bed and the moonlight streaming streaming from the semi opened blinds casting lines across her dusky skin, the smell of vanilla and sandalwood seemed to fill the small room.

“This doesn’t mean I love you, don’t get it twisted Jones.” There's a smile in her voice.

“I know what we are Tania, we're simply borrowed time.”

“Always have something to say don’t you.”

“That's generally how conversations work, yes.”

From here on it’s simply friction and teeth, sharp gasping breaths followed by whispered expletives and a overwhelming need to taste something akin to affection; they’ve been stealing it from each other for months so what’s one more night, one more night of bruised hips and bite marks , of memorizing curves of each other with eager lips and accurate finger tips. 

In the morning he’ll start the drive back to Riverdale, but that still gave him plenty of time to leave her with a reminder of who he was.


End file.
